


Sing Me Another Song

by mcschnuggles



Series: Schnugg's Regressuary 2021 [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CGRE - Caregiver/Age Regressor, Caregiver!Jaskier, Gen, Regressing!Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29222712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: Jaskier comes home from work to find a regressed Geralt waiting for him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Schnugg's Regressuary 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138382
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Regressuary, Regressuary 2021





	Sing Me Another Song

“Well that’s not a very happy face.”

Geralt lifts his head just to glare, and Jaskier can tell at first glance that he’s regressed. Jaskier wonders how long he’s been home alone. Stubborn thing never will call Jaskier, no matter how small he feels.

“Hard day, love?” he asks, to no real response.

Geralt is even less talkative while regressed, meaning that Jaskier will basically be monologuing for the next few hours. Not that he minds. It’s what he’s best at, and the experience Geralt has given him has only made him better.

“I can only imagine.” Jaskier nods along, as if he’s taking in a real response instead of just a grumpy silence. “You know, I still don’t understand why you even keep that job if it stresses you out so much.”

Geralt doesn’t move, simply watching Jaskier’s every move as he takes the groceries into the kitchen.

“I know, I know. We can’t all have my lovely, fun, amazing, low-effort job. Is that what you were going to say?”

Geralt blinks at him. From looking at him, no one would be able to tell he was regressed. Even Jaskier has a hard time telling. The only real tell is the furrow of his brow, the permanent scowl affixed to his face becoming the slightest bit more passive.

“I thought so.” Jaskier eyes him suspiciously. “When was the last time you ate? Would you like something?”

Geralt still doesn’t say anything, but at least this time he moves. He shifts against the pillows, stretching out his legs. It’s a small movement, but it’s his way of communicating that he’s comfortable.

“Yes, of course, dear. With cinnamon.”

Geralt always wants honey milk with cinnamon. Apparently his mother used to make it all the time. And while Jaskier doesn’t make it just like she did, he also didn’t abandon Geralt at daycare and go missing without a trace, so it evens out.

He hears footsteps behind him, as expected. Geralt will never let Jaskier know if he’s regressed, but once Jaskier finds him, once he proves that he _wants_ to be here, Geralt gets anxious if Jaskier stays out of his line of sight for too long.

“Up you get, then.” Jaskier says, patting the empty space on the counter.

Geralt climbs up on the counter, his posture as stiff as always. Jaskier wonders if he ever gets tired of sitting like that all the time. Surely it can’t be good for his back.

“How about some chicken strips?” Jaskier suggests.

Geralt will only have finger foods when he’s little. He’s all about touch and textures—it’s like every sense cranks itself up to eleven. A large amount of Jaskier’s caregiving consists of finding that golden median between too loud and too quiet, too hot and too cold, too bored and overstimulated.

Jaskier hums as he works. Thankfully, Geralt’s a lot less picky when he’s regressed, so as long as it’s Jaskier singing, he’s happy. Admittedly, Jaskier takes it as an opportunity to sing every dumb song that Geralt would normally throw something at him for.

Today, it’s Caramelldansen. The owner of the restaurant he played at today showed him one of the memes while he was on his break, and it’s been stuck in his head all day. It may have also been his number one song of the year on Spotify, but he’d rather not talk about that.

Jaskier makes sure to keep an eye on Geralt as he works. It’s not like Geralt would ever show physical signs of discomfort, but it comforts Jaskier in the same way it comforts Geralt.

Despite his size, Geralt could very easily sneak away without a sound if Jaskier wasn’t looking. Something like that hasn’t happened yet, and based on how little Geralt wants to be alone, it probably never will, but it’s still something Jaskier likes to confirm with himself.

He pats Geralt’s knee with a smile. Geralt doesn’t so much as twitch, but his eyes get the slightest bit more owlish. He doesn’t show it, but Geralt relishes in physical touch, no matter what. Even when his threshold for physical touch is at its lowest, he still needs Jaskier within cuddling distance. Just in case he needs a hug as soon as possible.

Geralt doesn’t do much while regressed, but he will absolutely grab Jaskier by the back of the shirt and force him to stay on the couch. It’s rather cute, even if saying so is a surefire way to turn Geralt’s frown until a full-fledged scowl.

Officially sick of singing Caramelldansen, Jaskier switches over to Hampsterdance. Might as well keep up the same song energy, since Geralt seems to enjoy it. Realistically speaking, Jaskier could sing just about anything and Geralt would enjoy it, but he wouldn’t be an entertainer if he couldn’t keep a consistent theme.

He pours the milk into the mangled remains of a sippy cup. Geralt absolutely needs cups with handles, but anything with a cartoon character or a color brighter than gray was absolutely out of the question. But seeing they were sippy cups, intended for toddlers, it was rather difficult to find a plain sippy cup. Which is why Jaskier returned home one night to find Geralt hunched over a three-pack of sippy cups, meticulously grinding the cartoon prints off the front.

Geralt threw out the lids not long after, since he refuses to drink from a spout, but since the handles come from the cup itself, Jaskier allowed it.

The poor cups look like they’re about to fall apart at any given second, but as long as Geralt wasn’t fumbling with his drinks and spilling them everywhere, it was fine by Jaskier.

The only time Jaskier has ever seen Geralt perk up is when he’s being offered his honey milk with cinnamon. It’s the closest he gets to looking excited, and it’s definitely the closest he gets to a smile.

“Ah.” Jaskier pulls the sippy cup out of reach at the last second. Geralt may not speak but he is _definitely_ grabby when he wants to be. “Can we use our nice words?”

Geralt glances up, the creases in his forehead smoothing out a touch.

Jaskier’s gaze softens. So long as things aren’t getting spilled. “I’ll take that as a please.”

If he wanted to push his luck, Jaskier would comment that the way Geralt reaches for his drink looks _suspiciously_ like grabby hands, but the last thing he wants to do is push Geralt in this headspace.

Even for Geralt, he’s in a weird in-between state. It might be easier to discern if he were any sort of expressive, but that just wasn’t who Geralt was. If something is on his mind, he won’t talk about it, so the most Jaskier can do is stroke his hair and sing him songs. 

Geralt takes a long drink, and some of the tension slides off of his shoulders. He’s still sitting up straight, impossibly still, but the tiniest bit of comfort creeps into his frame.

A hand on his knee, Jaskier begins to sing again.

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


End file.
